


Milky Ink on Black Paper

by Sugar_and_Salt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Psychological, alternative universe, rather dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 08:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11733204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/pseuds/Sugar_and_Salt
Summary: Jongin has a secret admirer who compares him to honey and flower dust. His friends don't like it.





	Milky Ink on Black Paper

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the puppy-love fest, which I had to drop for personal reasons.  
> I quite liked my fic and had to finish it though, so here goes nothing~  
> This isn't beta'd, but I tried.  
> If you have any questions, don't hesitate to hit me up, anon or not :3  
> Love,  
> Sugar_and_Salt

Sometimes, everything gets a bit much. The world is vast, and even the small glimpses Jongin catches in his mundane life are still moving rapidly, flourishing around him, rushing by in a flurry of colors. Sometimes, Jongin feels like a tiny fish in an overpopulated aquarium.

He walked down the crowded hallways, dodged other people, all fishes that looked exactly like he did, and the world around him sounded dull, muted by the glass walls he liked to imagine caging him in. Solid, but see-through. On display. He stepped inside the lecture hall and dropped himself into an empty seat far away from everyone else.

Next, he hoisted his bag on his lap to search it with nimble fingers. His movements were leisurely, but his search thorough. It's not like he'd find it every day, not like he could predict it. But he could very well anticipate, and that he did.

Today, his fingers grazed the thick paper in one of the bag's front pockets. He tucked it out, and despite the traitorous flutter of excitement, he forced his movements to stay even. A small part of him wanted to drag this out, before the next period of waiting began. For a while, he stared at the black piece of folded paper. There was no recipient written on it, and why would there be - the card had been tugged into _his_ bag, after all. When the professor entered, Jongin was ripped out of his reverie and opened the note, almost on instinct.

In the center he found the familiar handwriting of someone who tried very hard to write neatly, to not smudge the letters before they dried. Someone presumably male. Presumably.

 

_You're beauty fills my heart_

_Your heart fills my mind_

_I am you, but you're not me_

 

Someone thought about him. Someone thought he was worth looking at, beautiful even. What a nice thought.

He couldn't wait to add it to the other ones pinned above his bed.

 

Jongin would like his admirer to be male.

  


 

* * *

 

 

 

_You're like a drop of honey, liquid amber_

_Tantalizing, sweet sugar luring me in_

_I wanna see myself reflected on the surface_

_So I'm inching closer_

 

_(but honey is so sticky)_

  


The notes were always black, the writing always white. Jongin wondered who would go out of his way to do all this for him, of all people.

It could be Junmyeon, the friendly-looking boy who liked to do voluntary work, and who frequently approached him, sat next to him to make sure he was feeling good and that he wasn't alone or lonely. Not that his mere presence could change a lot about that, but Jongin wasn't interested in telling him otherwise.

Maybe it was Park Chanyeol, the boy who always snuck glances at him from across the room and who was on the receiving end of the silent treatment, since everybody knew that he was a liar. As soon as he opened his mouth, nothing but lies would pour out, and who wanted to be friends with a liar?

But maybe it was Zitao instead - the tall, flashy foreigner who thought the way he caught glimpses at Jongin was sneaky, when it really wasn't. His gaze was sharp and challenging, and Jongin wasn't sure what the challenge entailed.

There were more people around him, more faces Jongin could remember despite living in a _sea_ of faces. So many people, it was making him nervous, made his insides itch and cramp up. Made him want to avert his face and scratch until there was nothing they could look at anymore. But someone thought he was beautiful, someone would-

The thought was cut off when Junmyeon slipped into the seat next to him, a goodnatured smile in place, as it usually was.

"Hello Jongin," he said gently, as if he was some fragile, frightened animal he didn't dare to scare off. Jongin slipped the black piece of paper into his notepad - Junmyeon's eyes flickered down to follow the movement, but he didn't say anything.

"How are you doing today? Did you do the homework? Should we compare before class?"

Jongin just let himself get carried along as he obediently took out his homework. In the movement, his eyes met Chanyeol's, who was sitting not too far away, at a window, obviously looking at him with curiosity.

"Are you sure about that one? I got a different result..."

Jongin averted his gaze, and looked at shaky numbers pinned down to cheap paper.

 

 

* * *

 

  


On a nondescript Wednesday, Park Chanyeol decided to sit down next to him, just like that. He didn't ask for permission, though maybe he should - most people wouldn't want him to sit with them. Jongin just ignored the sudden, silently demanding presence next to him and aimlessly doodled symmetrical patterns around his notes.

For a while it was silent, and maybe the other had really just needed a seat.

"Do you major in this? Economy?"

Or maybe not.

Chanyeol's voice was deep, but lively. Amazing how some flowers weren't stumped, no matter how many people stepped on them.

"Journalism," Jongin replied curtly.

"Oh? Me too!"

Lies. Chanyeol majored in music, with economy being a minor.

Come to think of it, only weeds survived despite people stepping on them.

 

That day, Jongin found the note already tucked into his notepad. As if his admirer knew he liked to place them there so they wouldn't get crumpled in any way.

  


_An empty seat, silence_

_A drop in temperature_

_A warm mattress turning cold_

_Because the world doesn't deserve the beauty of you_

  
  


* * *

  


 

Jongin did have friends, and despite him being discreet, the notes didn't stay secret for long. To his surprise, they didn't coo over them or began to tease him for having a secret admirer. Kyungsoo, a quiet boy he dared to label as his closest friend, picked at a note Jongin had found neatly tucked into one of his books only seconds prior.

 

_You're the only candle burning_

_Warm, bright, beautiful_

_Slowly dying._

 

"That's not romantic, it's very, very creepy," he said, and Jongin just blinked at him. "Are you sure you don't know who might be behind them? Not the faintest idea?"

Creepy? How was this creepy? Everyone was dying a slow death, weren't they? Living meant nothing but inching towards death.

Jongin snatched the note out of his hands and subtly held it close to himself.

"I don't," he replied curtly. Kyungsoo shot him a funny look, and for the rest of the day, he was eyeing those around him with suspicion. Jongin didn't understand.

There was no reason to protect him from the writer of the notes.

  
  


* * *

  


 

Jongin got chills as he took in the words, paper almost rough against his sensitive skin.

 

_Little stars, drops of honey and flower dust_

_Bit by bit, insides, outsides, all spread out_

_Let me rearrange the parts, see how much will be left_

_(Of you)_

_(Of me)_

 

"This is enough, Jongin, it's definitely gone too far."

Like an unpleasant scratch over the thick paper, Junmyeon's voice ruined the moment.

Jongin refused to give away the note, standing in the hallway and squabbling with Junmyeon over it in front of everyone. He saw Zitao lurking on a bench, watching them closely.

He was scared the paper would rip with he way Junmyeon tugged without respect or care. He almost managed to save it when strong arms reigned him. It was Kyungsoo. Traitor.

Jongin actually made a pathetic sound when the paper left his hand.

He felt oddly empty for the rest of the day. A bit too light, everything was a bit too light.

When he returned home, he quickly scrambled to his bed, got a pen and tried to memorize the note's words.

 

 _A drop of honey_ , he shakily scrawled along the uneven tapestry, the tip of the black fine liner pressing hard enough to etch the letters into the wall.

_Flower dust_

_Bit by bit, spread out_

_Bit by bit-_

 

He just couldn't remember. That night, Jongin cried.

  
  


* * *

 

  


The next day held a surprise. Maybe his admirer somehow knew what had happened, maybe he wanted to cheer him up. Because that day, Jongin found a note in his locker and the words were strikingly familiar.

 

_I was your cure, but you're my disease_

_I was saving you, but you're killing_ **_me_ **

  


He was touched.

Touched, until he was literally touched, ripped around and suddenly, the aquarium full of aimless fishes all crowded around him, too close for comfort.

"We found the culprit, Jongin, it's all good now," Junmyeon said, and confused, overwhelmed Jongin tried to find the source of commotion. People were yelling and there was a struggle. Junmyeon was holding him close protectively, saying something about having called the police and Jongin couldn't breathe. Then he saw Zitao, holding a struggling person, tugging him towards the exit. It was Chanyeol. Chanyeol, the liar.

Their eyes met for just a second. Jongin stared after him and the pressure was so high that he squeezed the paper in his hands. Squeezed it close by his side.

 

Chanyeol was a liar through and through. So when the police arrived a while later and asked him whether he was the one stalking poor Kim Jongin... he said yes.

  


* * *

 

 

Jongin would have expected the walls to be all white, but they were not. They were colored in a warm cream tone, neither befitting the black paper, nor the white writing. Admittedly, they suited Chanyeol's eyes. They were really warm, like a candle flame.

_Slowly dying._

Jongin slipped into the seat across him. He didn't ask for permission, though maybe he should have.

Chanyeol was shooting him a wry grin, almost sheepish-looking. Jongin didn't understand.

Then he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It had been folded many times and looked very battered and worn out by now. It wasn't black but white, stained and smudged to a faint grey around the wrinkles. Slowly, he unfolded it and placed it on the table for Jongin to see, watching him closely as he did so.

The writing wasn't white but black, and it wasn't Chanyeol's - it was Jongin's.

 

_Be my cure and I'll be your disease_

_Save me, and then kill me_

 

Jongin recognized it. It was the first one of them all. The first slip of paper that traveled to reach someone. Chanyeol had found it, accepted it, _heard_ it. And he had replied.

With slow, albeit slightly jerky movements, Jongin placed the last note he had received on top of it.   
Black over white. Black crushing white. Black forcefully smoothing out the wrinkles of the battered, cracked white. Pressing on the faint, jittery black letters, etching them into the white for good.

 

Chanyeol watched it happen, let it happen.

Even Chanyeol - the loser, the loner, the liar - demanded a price though. It was something Jongin would gladly give, something that he didn't even have any use for if it wasn't for Chanyeol.

"Kiss me," he demanded, a raw whisper full of yearning.

Jongin didn't hesitate, didn't even walk around the table. He just got to his feet to lean over the table and comply. The paper was burning against his his right palm. Chanyeol's hand was burning on the back of his left hand.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

_Be my cure and I'll be your disease  
Save me, and then kill me _

 

Pretty, pretty Chanyeol had heard his request.

Would he be able to go through with it eventually?

 

_I was your cure, but you're my disease  
I was saving you, but you're killing me _

 

Pretty, pretty Chanyeol had maybe spent too much time looking at him, had let the disease eat away at him for too long.

Jongin wondered who was going to die first.

But a part of him would like it if Chanyeol never gave up.


End file.
